I Told You So
by poetif
Summary: "What I feel for you isn't comfortable Liv, it isn't…reasonable or or quiet," he goes on. "It wrecks me in the most pleasurable way imaginable," he adds. "And it's the most terrifying and overpowering thing I've ever felt." - Words are mine, characters are Dick Wolf's. Rating is T in the first three chapters but turns to MA in the fourth and last chapter. - PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Eye Level

**AN: In this, my little story, Elliot, Cragen and Munch never left. It's only four chapters. And yes, they are already written. These characters unfortunately are not mine, and it's a damn shame cuz I like to have more than a little fun with 'em.**

She's always equated height to a certain… _power_. And when she first walked into the squad room twelve years ago, she was just honkey dory with her five foot, eight inch frame. The average height for a female is four inches shorter. And, if it's one thing Olivia Benson's always strived to be, is _above_ average, even though height is something she has no control over.

Those long legs of hers gave her speed and enabled her to run circles around nearly every woman in her academy class and some of the men too. Her former partner and training officer was only 5'4" and she was a force to be reckoned with. So according to Olivia, it would stand to reason that she herself should be even _more_ of a force, _more_ intimidating to perps and coworkers alike who would underestimate her.

Then she was introduced to Elliot Stabler.

Now of course she'd met taller men before coming into contact with the slightly elder detective, but she didn't see _them_ in action every day. His solid frame coupled with the intensity of his eyes and his mere presence was enough for her to want to pose one question in particular to him, about three hours into their partnership.

" _Umm Stabler," she'd began, almost shyly._

" _Yeah," he'd said, trying to concentrate on the road as a deluge of spring rain was reducing visibility for them._

" _How tall are you?"_

" _Huh?" He'd asked, confused._

" _How uh…how tall are you?" She'd asked again._

" _Six feet," he answered. "Why?"_

" _No reason," she'd told him. "Just curious."_

 _He'd threaded his eyebrows together and smirked a bit in her direction but didn't press the issue. He hadn't known then that Olivia Benson didn't simply ask questions for the sake of doing so._

" _Ok."_

' _How 'bout that, she'd thought, 'he's exactly four inches above average too.'_

For the first couple of years, she was learning from him, watching him really. Olivia paid attention to how he'd get physically close to victims and perps alike, both for very different reasons of course. She'd notice a change in his tone of voice, his demeanor, his body language.

Elliot got witnesses to talk with his honesty, his genuine interest in getting justice for the victims. But sometimes, it took a little more. Sometimes, he used his size and that single-minded determination that would make guys even bigger than he, feel a little nervous.

And that's what Olivia wanted, a bit of that power.

Not to intimidate, not to instill fear, but to simply give pause to those who thought her incapable of being an effective cop.

So after about a year of learning the job _and_ Elliot, she decided to…get a little bit of height on her side. Olivia ditched the sensible shoes and took a shopping trip to her favorite midtown boutique. The Monday morning after that, she damn near strutted into the squad room wearing boots with three inch heels.

She wondered if he'd even noticed.

If he had, he never said word one about it. And that was a more curvaceous body on her part, a divorce on his, and over a decade ago between them.

"What are you doing out here?" He asks, finding her on the patio.

Truth told she's avoiding her good friend Alex, knowing she'll ask what happened with her latest beau and why she hasn't brought him to the NYPD's annual policeman's ball. How the counselor hasn't yet heard the details through the infamous grapevine already, Olivia will never know.

"Getting some air," she answers.

"Isn't it a little too cold for that?" He asks, taking off his sport coat to put over her shoulders.

Elliot's hands linger on her skin, and she momentarily places hers over his before letting go.

"It's not that bad," she tells him as he stands next to her at the railing. "But it's April so I do kind of wish this city had more than the two temperatures of cold and hot."

They've been doing a lot of that lately, lingering touches, furtive glances. He's been divorced for about a year and a half and they haven't fallen into bed like everyone expected them to. Some even suspecting they've long since been sleeping together.

But up until a month ago she was dating Alexander Weston, television writer and producer extraordinaire. Things had been great for two months, until she got into trouble with Cragen for one of the episodes he'd written.

It was strangely and "coincidentally" as he'd put it, too close to a case they were working on at the time. And, after the incident with the newspaper reporter during her first year in SVU, she'd made it a habit not to leave files simply lying around her apartment in plain sight. But Olivia didn't think he'd had the skills to get past her password protected laptop.

She blames technology _and_ Xander of course.

Cragen believed her story enough to have T.A.R.U take a look and they found a Trojan horse on her computer. Unfortunately, he was still forced by the brass to reprimand her with a negative mark in her jacket and a two week rip for what they called, "being careless with sensitive information."

She figured coming to the ball would make her feel a bit better about the break-up and the admonishment.

It's not working.

"I think I'm just gonna say my goodbyes and leave," she informs him.

"Me too," he says, stifling a yawn. "I'm kinda tired."

"Eli running you ragged huh?" She asks, turning to give him a smirk.

Elliot can't help but smile back. It's the truth.

"Yeah," he admits with a quiet chuckle. "I swear Kathy gives him cookies chased with espresso shots before I pick him up."

Olivia's always loved his laugh, mainly because in their line of work, neither of them does it as often as they'd like.

"I doubt that," she says. "She doesn't hate you."

"I know," he acknowledges. "Still."

She nods, letting the subject drop.

"So…Xander," he starts.

"Xander," she repeats, taking a breath. "Just another mistake in a very long line of mistakes."

"Don't beat yourself up too much," he tells her. "We've all made our fair share."

Olivia looks over to find him staring. When she does, he takes the opportunity to move a strand of hair up and over her ear, caressing the spine of it with his thumb before dropping his hand.

"I guess," she says, nearly whispering.

They eye one another for a few seconds and she sees a little something in his baby blues that, despite him knowing that she was dating Alexander, has been appearing more often lately. It makes her curious and nervous at the same time, so she does the safe thing and tries to ignore it.

"Clear night," she says, turning to look out over the city again.

"Gorgeous," Elliot comments, never taking his eyes off her.

She swears he's moved to stand closer.

"Yeah, the stars are really lighting up the sky," she continues.

"They are," he agrees, laying a hand against her cheek. "Liv?"

Her heart begins to race at his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm as he turns her face towards him.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asks.

Olivia thought maybe a bright red would be too much so she went with a strapless, maroon colored number that accentuates her curves and flatters her figure. The tan three inch heels are no taller than the wedged boots she normally wears daily but they aren't nearly as comfortable. Along with the feelings his touch conjures, they are yet another reason why it's time to go.

"No," she says, hoping the blush she feels isn't on her face. "You've uh…never really complimented me before for something other than getting a tight grouping at the range or a detailed confession," she adds, trying to make light of the situation.

"We're partners," he points out. "I didn't think it was…appropriate to voice those kinds of observations," he adds. " _And_ I was married."

He boldly steps even closer.

"We're still partners Elliot," she advises. "Tonight's no different."

"But it is," he says.

Music begins playing somewhere inside and it flows out to them, loudly enough to hear the lyrics.

" _ **Close your eyes, make a wish and blow out the candlelight…**_

It's Boyz II Mens' _"I'll Make Love to You"._

"I love this song," he tells her, getting a twinkle in his eyes. "You wanna dance?"

Olivia looks at him as if he's lost all his marbles.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on Liv," he urges. "I promise to keep my hands above your waist."

His whole demeanor is surprising despite the fact that he's been looking at her in _less_ than platonic ways for weeks. Then again, there's always been a certain something there between the two detectives.

"Fine," she says, pretending to be annoyed with an eye roll. "One dance."

The minute he takes her into his arms, the rest of the world falls away and the intimate patio is all that remains. They move slowly in the small space, swaying back and forth together under the light of the bright full moon.

"How tall are you?" He asks, out the blue.

Elliot moves his warm hands beneath his suit jacket she wears and up her back. She loosens her arms around his neck to lean away, meeting his eyes.

"About 5'8" without the heels," she responds. "Why?"

He gives her a mischievous smile before pulling her closer again.

"No reason, just curious," he tells her.

"Elliot Stabler does _not_ just ask a question out of curiosity," she asserts, having learned years prior that they both share that trait. "So tell me."

"I've just…" he tries. "I've always found it incredibly sexy to be eye level with a woman," he confesses with a shrug of his shoulders.

Well.

Apparently he _had_ noticed her change in elevation all that time ago.

"Oh," she says, as they continue to dance. "Okay."

Elliot steps closer to her, still managing to keep moving as he leans his forehead against hers. She can smell his intoxicating cologne, feel his breath on her lips and she knows he wants to kiss her.

"Are we still just dancing?" Olivia asks in a whisper, prompting him to move back again.

"Yeah," he answers. "Just dancin'."

They sway for another minute before the song comes to an end. And she sees that look in his eyes return. It's that thing that's always been there between them, sometimes blatantly, other times just beneath the surface, and right now…it's the former.

The unmistakable pull of desire.

Olivia no longer has Alexander as a distraction, which if she's honest with herself, is all he ever was for her. But she knows she's not in a position to act on the chemistry she has with Elliot so she'll just fall on her tried and true method of avoidance.

After removing and handing back his suit jacket, she turns on her heels to leave.

"Thanks for the dance Elliot," she tells him. "See you Monday."

She can't get far enough, fast enough. It is _not_ a good idea to call your partner beautiful, to put your lips so close to theirs or hold them so intimately while dancing to a song about making love. Why Elliot's deciding to break the rules all of a sudden is beyond her.

They've been effectively avoiding the pull they have towards one another for years. It's better for their jobs to keep it that way.

Olivia gets her trench from the coat check guy at the counter and bee lines out the front door of the Waldorf hotel.

" _Where's a taxi when you need one?"_ she thinks.

She left in a haste, thinking that Elliot wouldn't have time to follow her. But she has a feeling that…

"Why are you running out of here so fast?" Asks the familiar voice from behind.

"I'm not," she tells him, wishing for instant transportation. "I told you I was heading out."

"You said you were saying your goodbyes and _then_ heading out," Elliot reminds her. "You didn't say so much as a _'see ya later'_ to anyone before leaving."

"I'm just gonna see them in a couple of days anyway."

"So you're not in a hurry?" He asks in disbelief.

"No," she says, trying to sound casual, looking down the street and thanking God for the approaching yellow taxi.

"Then let me drive you home," he tells her.

" _Hell no,"_ she thinks. _"Not a good idea."_

"I'm fine," she says, putting her arm out and swearing as the occupied fare passes by.

"It's Friday night Liv," he points out. "As you can see, finding a taxi that's not taken won't be easy."

Olivia exhales a frustrated breath, knowing he's right.

"Okay," she reluctantly agrees. "I guess I'll be taking you up on your offer then, if it's still on the table?"

He nods and she follows him towards the parking lot.

Minutes later they're in his car, driving uptown. He's tuned into some classic rock station and is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he hums to _"Don't Stop Believing"_. The man never hums, and while she's seen him punch the steering wheel, Olivia doesn't recall seeing him drum along to a music selection.

When they get to her apartment, he walks her up because it is both the gentlemanly and the Elliot thing to do.

"Thanks for the ride El," she says, turning to put her keys in the lock.

"Don't you wanna know?" He asks at her back.

"Know what?" She says turning to find him slightly outside her personal space.

"Why _tonight's_ different," he reminds her. "Why I can say you're beautiful and not just because of the way you look in that dress," he clarifies.

"Elliot…

"It's because I finally feel…free Liv," he says, smiling. "I had an amicable divorce," he explains. "My kids are safe and despite this job that can be gut wrenching sometimes," he continues. "I'm happy and…

"And what?" She asks curiously.

"I want the same for my partner," he answers.

"I'm good Elliot," she asserts. "I may not be on whatever merry making cocktail or four you've been drinking," she adds, making light of his glee. "But I'm okay."

"I've only had one drink," he insists. "I'm just…tired of you settling less for what you can have," he says. "I wanna see you smile more often."

"If I promise to do that," she responds, creating space between them by backing up to her door. "Will you stop…this," she adds, gesturing between them.

Elliot lets her create the distance without advancing towards her.

"No," he says to her disappointment. "Because I don't want you to fake it Liv. I want you it to be real."

"Aren't you incredibly cocky?" She points out. "You think starting to tell me I'm beautiful on a regular basis is gonna do that?" She asks, turning to unlock her door.

"No," he answers. "But maybe _I_ can."

The conversation he's begun has gotten too personal for it to continue in the hallway of her apartment building.

"And you've concluded that, how?" Olivia asks, finally opening the door.

"Because as much as we've gone through… _put_ one another through," he adds following her past the threshold. "We're still partners Liv," he answers.

He watches as she deposits her purse on the hall table then throws her coat over the back of an armchair.

"Despite the fact that the all mighty NYPD brass said we shouldn't be," he reminds her. "We are," he points out. "And I'm done asking why we've fought so hard all these years to keep it that way."

"It's as simple as how well we work together El," she reasons, entering the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "I don't know that I'd have the same vibe with someone else."

"And you don't think we could have that same _vibe_ …off the clock?" He asks, suddenly standing before her.

He chances a step in her direction and for lack of anywhere else to go, Olivia stays put.

"Don't get me wrong, perfect doesn't exist in our world and we'll still publically and probably _loudly_ disagree sometimes," he admits, garnering a smile from her.

"Sometimes?"

He smiles and nods.

"But I'll never hack into your laptop, track your cell phone unless a perp is after you, put another detail on you without your knowledge or inject you with a RFID chip while you sleep," he adds, prompting a laugh from her.

"Wow," Olivia says, smiling at all they've seen and experienced together. "What an interesting ride it's been."

He's not a poetry and violins kind of guy and probably never has been. But he gets her in a way that no one else does or has. He's loyal, a good friend, someone who will not only stand up for her but will also stand up _to_ her when she needs it.

However…

"But we can't have a romantic relationship and keep working together Elliot," she tells him. "Things could get messy."

"I think we could handle it," he says. "I don't exactly plan on pushing you into a broom closet and having my way with you."

There's a visual she'll probably go to sleep with in her head.

"Well then what's the point?" She asks smartly as she pushes past him.

"You know what I mean Liv," he says, staying put. "We keep it out of work."

"You saw what happened with Cassidy," she reminds him, resting on a bar stool opposite him. "That didn't exactly go well."

"I don't plan on being a one night stand," he contends boldly. "And this isn't some half-assed, spur of the moment move on my part," he adds. "I've thought this through."

With how quickly he's moved from joviality to sincerity, Olivia doesn't doubt it.

"I get that," she acknowledges. "What I don't understand is why, Elliot?" She asks. "We've worked together for a long time, I think we're good friends," she points out. "In fact you're my _best_ friend so why change that?"

"I'm sure you've heard that best friends often start the best relationships Liv," he counters. "So why not?"

She has but that's beside the point.

"Because everything you _think_ you like about me, my strong will, my independence among other things, will start to get annoying if we got together," she reasons.

He doesn't look the least bit convinced, so she continues.

"For instance, the way you still think it's cute to sip coffee from my cup and steal food off my plate."

Elliot eyes her over the counter, forearms resting on the top.

"Oh, so I annoy you now?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

Now? It's not a new occurrence.

"Of course," she says nonchalantly, offering a smile. "But it's not everything you do ya know? Just…things you have to accept when two people spend as much time together as we do," she clarifies. "I'm sure I do things that get on _your_ nerves."

She takes a sip of her water before continuing.

"El the ink is barely dry on your divorce papers," she points out. "I don't think you've waited long enough to-

"First of all," he interrupts. "I've been divorced for over a year."

Olivia watches as he comes from the other side of the counter to join her.

"Secondly," he continues. "I've dated Olivia, so it's not like I've been living like a priest," he reveals. "I know what I want."

Her eyebrows nearly meet her hairline as she raises them in surprise.

"And suddenly that's me?" She asks, turning to sit sideways at the counter before crossing her legs.

Elliot watches the position change, struggling to bring his eyes back up to hers.

"I'm pretty sure you know that it's not sudden," he challenges.

Of course she does. But _he_ doesn't need to know that.

"So you've been dating these other women all this time for what…practice?"

"Hell no," he answers immediately.

"Or did you just think that good old Liv would be waiting in the wings until you were ready?" She asks.

"Course not, you were seeing Alexander," he contends. " _And_ there's the fact that I didn't think…seeing the guys you date, doctors, wall street types, guys with power and money…I didn't think I had a shot."

" _Men are stupid,"_ she thinks. _"Just plain stupid."_

She smiles and shakes her head.

"You've been divorced for a lot longer than I've been dating Xander," she reminds him. "And if you don't think you have a shot, then what's all this about?"

"Well," he begins, stepping closer. "It's just…I can't seem to make it past a second or third date without thinking," he pauses, unsure of how much he wants to reveal.

"Tell me," she urges after seeing his hesitation.

"Without thinking…Olivia would've gotten my corny joke or Olivia would've liked this restaurant," he confesses.

She immediately understands. There have been instances during her own dates and former relationships that she'd thought along similar lines.

"I figured…why not just skip the middle man so to speak, and…ask _you_ out," he continues.

Elliot steps forward and to her surprise, removes the water glass from her hand to place on the counter.

"And, as much as we may annoy each other or get on one another's nerves," he goes on. "I'd still rather fight with you than be bored with someone else," he points out. "So I thought what the hell? The worse you can do is say no, my ego gets a little bruised and I see you next week."

He steps closer, standing against her outer thigh as he leans on the counter next to her and just smiles that cocky smile.

"Is that the end of your pitch?" She asks, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"No Liv," he says, growing serious again. "I think I could make you happy…that we could be happy… _together_ ," he clarifies. "We're already as together as any married couple I've ever met, we just don't get the added bonus of having sex."

She shakes her head as she grins at this, knowing full well it's the truth. _And_ , it's not the worst offer she's ever had.

Still it's…Elliot.

"Now I'm done with my pitch," he announces. "I'd like to know what you think."

Olivia uncrosses her legs, stands up and faces him. She reaches out with both hands, straightening his tie before resting her hands on each lapel of his jacket.

"I don't deny a physical attraction," she admits. "But El, workplace romances rarely work out," she answers. "And the stakes…are just too high."

Elliot looks disappointed but nods, giving her an understanding smile as he stuffs both hands into his pockets.

"Okay, maybe you have a point," he tells her. "I uh…guess I should get going."

He turns to leave and she follows to walk him out. Just as he's reaching for the knob, she stops him.

"El wait," Olivia says.

She knows his feelings are hurt, as anyone's would be, that his ego is a little bruised. But things don't usually go as well for them when they've disagreed on something.

"Are _we_ okay?" She asks once he's facing her again.

"Of course Liv, like you said we're friends," he answers, sounding genuine. "And believe it or not you're not the first woman to shoot me down," he continues. "I'm a big boy though, I can handle it," he adds, giving her a gracious smile.

"Good," she says. "Okay."

Then Olivia steps close, resting her hands against his chest before leaning in to whisper, "Thanks for understanding," into his ear.

When she pulls back he's giving her the same look he gave her earlier in the evening while they were dancing. But before she can tell him what a bad idea it is or pull away, he's kissing her and Olivia isn't stopping him.

Elliot's warm hands are on the small of her back. He passionately moves his lips over hers before delving into her mouth after Olivia's gasp of surprise.

If they're going to shove the night under the rug and never speak of it again, as is their usual method, he wants her to understand what she's giving up on.

Even if it only happens once.

When he finally pulls back, he sees her bruised lips, flushed face and the look of shock with a hint of arousal and wants to kiss her all over again. But he can't because he wasn't supposed to do it in the first place.

"I should go," he manages, turning to move hastily out her front door. "See you Monday."

Before Olivia can respond, he's gone and she's just standing there alone.

Dumbfounded.

 **END NOTE: Well. Review and stuff.**


	2. A Change of Heart

A/N: Great response to the first chapter guys. I truly appreciate your input.

Olivia's has had a _long_ damn week.

She thought the Monday after the policeman's ball would be kind of awkward, but Elliot treated her like he always had, as if nothing happened. They worked cases, interviewed witnesses, filled out 5's at their desks and ate lunch together. Not once did her partner mention or even allude to _"the kiss"._

She doesn't know whether to be relieved or insulted.

Yes, she told him she didn't think workplace romances are a good idea. But the way he so passionately covered his lips with hers, tickled her mouth and tasted her, how could he just pretend that it hadn't happened? Oh yeah, she rejected him.

There is that.

Elliot said goodnight to her about twenty minutes ago. She's been sitting in the darkness of the bullpen with just her desk lamp to shed light on her thoughts. Her intention was to review the paperwork she's been too preoccupied _not_ to have made mistakes on.

Realizing she needs to add something from his half of the notes, Olivia gets up to check his out box.

The file isn't there.

She thinks it's in his desk so tries to take a look but of course he's locked it, just as they all do upon leaving for the day. The paperwork is due Monday but she can just call and ask him about it tomorrow. So she gathers her things, deciding that it's no emergency and it can wait until then.

In moving down the corridor, Olivia's startled by the unexpected _"ding"_ signaling the arrival of the elevator. Walking towards it she pauses, surprised when her partner steps out of the box on a string.

"El," she says. "What are you doing back?"

"Got halfway home and realized I forgot my notes on the Nicholson case," he answers. "You finally headin' out?"

"Yeah," she responds. "I was actually gonna call because I need to take a look at those too."

"Well, give me a minute," he starts. "I'll get 'em and we can go over 'em together at my place," he suggests. " _If_ you don't have plans."

The only residence she's ever been to is the Stabler home in Queens. Olivia has no idea where her partner now lives but she knows his wife…make that his _ex_ -wife…won't be there with them. Nor will his children. It'll just be him and her.

Alone.

It's not something that should worry her. They've been alone a million times. In the car, the locker room, it's…fine. And she really shouldn't be taking this long to answer. Elliot's starting to look at her funny.

"Or I could just make copies it's-

"No," Olivia interrupts. "Uh…no plans," she clarifies. "It won't take as long if you're there to decode that chicken scratch you call handwriting."

He smiles and nods as he walks past her to retrieve the paperwork from his desk.

"Like yours is any better," he comments.

She watches as he unlocks his drawer, thumbing through the file folders until he gets to the one he's looking for. It's something that she finds herself doing now. Watching him. He's the same man he was before "the kiss", only…he's not. And it isn't even so much the act as it was everything that preceded it.

Elliot thinks he can make her happy, that they can be happy _together_.

How is she supposed to go back to the status quo after listening to that admission? How is she supposed to _not_ think about how he held her when they danced? How he looked at her beneath the moonlight?

How is _he_ so okay with it?

Though these are the questions that have been plaguing her brain since Elliot left her apartment that night, Olivia finds she has to remind herself that _she_ turned _him_ away. She told him being lovers and coworkers was a bad idea. She was so concrete on that fact, had made it a personal policy years ago after Cassidy. But now, she's on the fence about it.

And it's all her partner's fault.

Him with his smile and those damn dimples, the way he whispers to her when he's trying to be genuine or consoling. Then there's his commitment to their partnership and the way he looks out for her, even on things she tells him are none of his business.

Add to that, strong arms that provide warmth and comfort when she's hurting as well the ability to make her laugh at the strangest things. Soft lips. Why the hell did Elliot have to kiss her like that anyway? Who the hell is she kidding? That's exactly why she's been watching him.

"Liv?"

She's got to stop the damn daydreaming. Olivia hadn't realized he'd gotten the notes and was standing in front of her again.

"Huh?"

"I said I got what I came for," he tells her. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she answers, slightly shaking her head, trying to loosen the invading thoughts. "Sure, let's go."

After pushing the button, the elevator doors immediately open and they step inside. She can feel his concerned eyes on her.

"You okay?" Elliot asks.

"Fine, why?"

"You just…seem preoccupied," he answers.

"I'm good," she says. "Long week ya know?"

He of course doesn't believe a word she's telling him but none the less decides to go along with it.

"Yeah."

Once they make it to the parking lot, Elliot tells her to follow him because his new place isn't that far. Twenty minutes later they're walking into a newly renovated industrial loft in SoHo.

The place is enviously bigger than hers. It's all exposed brick walls, bare beams on the ceiling, and hardwood floors.

He must've gotten a nice chunk of cash from his half of the house after they sold it, because his new place could not have been cheap.

Immediately to their right is the small closet where he stops to stash their coats, hats and gloves. They continue down the short hall and the room opens up. There's a rectangular wooden dining table directly in front of them and the kitchen is to their direct left.

After Elliot turns on the lights is when Olivia begins to really get jealous.

It has cabinets in dark wood with green smoked glass doors and nickel fixtures. The appliances are all stainless steel and the long L-shaped counter is cream and black speckled marble.

"Make yourself at home," he tells her. "Should be something to drink in the fridge if you're thirsty."

Beyond the dining table and into the living room she sees a vanilla colored suede sectional with cranberry and orange hued accent pillows, a tufted dark brown, leather table in front and a large patterned rug of contrasting colors sits beneath.

Adjacent to the sofa are two matching arm chairs, separated by a magazine table. They face the row of floor to ceiling windows along the wall. The panes of glass end in a floating room divider where an LCD television is attached. Olivia guesses there to be a bedroom on the other side.

A staircase is a few feet beyond the kitchen and pictures of his children line the wall that leads to the loft dorm above. There, a faux wall was created to provide privacy, a window added to look out over the space. She can see at least one lamp illuminating the area.

Immediately, Olivia is curious to find out what his bedroom looks like.

"Did the girls help you decorate?" She asks, surprising herself by hoping that it wasn't a woman.

"Yeah," he yells, still at the closet hanging their stuff. "I love how everything turned out," he adds. "Just hate that I'm still payin' for it."

"Seems worth it," she comments, entering the kitchen and opening the refrigerator to examine the contents. "They did a great job."

"Thanks," he says, joining her. "Anything appealing in there?" He asks, as she bends to look in the refrigerator.

"You got beer, bottled water and apparently…green apple flavored iced tea," she adds, picking up the bottle and eying the label like it's the strangest thing she's ever heard.

"Courtesy of one of the kids no doubt," he says. "But I'll take the beer."

"Good choice," she tells him, taking out two beers out and turning just in time to see him getting an eyeful.

Olivia raises an eyebrow as a slight blush covers his face.

"You checkin' me out Stabler?" She asks, walking towards him.

She sits the beer next to him on the counter as he rests against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Olivia sees the slight crimson in his cheeks and decides to take the opportunity to see if he's doing as well as he seems to be in pretending last week's lip lock didn't happen.

She shortens the distance between them and he instinctively moves his arms to his sides, trying to create more.

"Don't tell me Fin was right," she begins in a lower tone. "That you've been watching my _backside_ instead of my back all these years."

Elliot stuffs his hands in his pockets as if removing the temptation to touch her. He knows what she's doing. Getting physically close to a perp to make them uncomfortable is something she learned from him. He used to watch in awe, at times feeling sorry for whatever poor skell she directed it towards.

Now he's the poor skell.

"I…uh…of course not," he lies. "You're my partner Liv, I wouldn't ogle you like that."

Olivia isn't buying it. She knows what she saw and takes things a step further by placing both hands beside him on the counter, effectively caging him in. Leaning towards his left ear, she stops short of putting her mouth on his lobe.

"But you're still a man Elliot," she whispers. "So tell me," she adds, before pulling back. "You've never once looked at my… _assets_?" She asks, smirking.

Elliot has been a cop over twenty-five years. If Olivia thinks he's going to make it that easy for her, she has another thing coming.

Two can play this game.

He stands to his full height, a breath away from touching his body to hers. Slowly he reaches out until his fingers land on the badge still adorning her waist.

"You know," he rasps. "Since you're so happyhaving only _this_ ," he adds, caressing the shield as if it's a part of her. "I wouldn't worry about me looking."

Elliot reaches around her, causing Olivia to raise an eyebrow. Maybe she thinks he's gotten bold enough to reach for her ass. Instead he extracts her cell phone from her back pocket with the finesse of a master thief.

Olivia still has him caged in and he barely has enough room to place the phone on the counter behind him. Without having to actually say it, he just showed her that he _had_ been looking. How else would he know where she kept her cell?

He leans into her right ear, intentionally touching it with his lips.

"And I think we're guilty of _mutual_ admiration," he whispers as his warm breath tickles her lobe.

Olivia puts some distance between them and is about to protest when he places both hands on the sides of her neck. He looks at her intently, caressing her skin with the pads of his thumbs. Then he erases what little distance she created, leaning into her other ear.

"You know Liv," he whispers. "If you wanna confession out of me, you're gonna have to use tactics I _haven't_ seen before."

When he pulls back he has this annoying smirk on his face as if he's won. Olivia's always hated that smug look he gets when he thinks he's right about a perp's alibi being full of crap or a victim not being completely forthcoming.

As handsome as she's always found him to be, that _'I told you so'_ look has never been attractive.

She started this game. And since it's hers, she's damn sure going to finish it. He's leaning against the counter again, palms resting at his sides on the marble. Olivia nods and gives him a small smile to let him think she's surrendered.

Then all manner of playfulness leaves her face as she steps up to Elliot once more.

She places her hands on his chest, moving them up slowly until she reaches the heated skin of his neck. Her thumbs caress him there, taking the time to revel in the surprised look on his face.

Let him put that in the _'tactics he hasn't seen'_ column.

Elliot never takes his eyes off hers. He's too curious to see how far she'll go. But when Olivia leans in leisurely, close enough to kiss, he instinctively closes his eyes. He smells the subtlety of her perfume, feels her breath on his mouth. Then, she pauses with her lips a hair away from his.

"Say it," she tells him, hovering with the promise of a kiss.

"Liv," he grates, almost in warning.

Olivia ghosts her hands back down his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms until she reaches his wrists. She pulls his arms behind her and his strong hands immediately find her lower back. When she hears his breathing change she melds her body to his, putting both arms around his neck.

Again she leans in, this time nuzzling his nose with hers before whispering against his lips, "Say it," she repeats.

Elliot didn't think she would take things this far. Not without some alcohol for courage, not to make a point. She's held his hand and played his wife on several occasions. She's even gotten half naked and pressed her breasts against his body to save his life.

But there's no one pointing guns at them this time, no threat of death.

Olivia is well aware of his attraction to her and if she keeps touching him, he won't be able to hide just how into this he is for much longer.

"No," he manages, eyes still closed.

He can feel her smiling against his lips, knowing how close she is to cracking him. It's a dangerous game she's playing but apparently he's underestimated how much she enjoys the thrill of victory.

Olivia always has been the more competitive of the two.

She rubs her cheek next to his days' worth of stubble as she moves her mouth towards his left ear. Elliot thinks she's going to repeat the demand when she surprises him, taking the lobe in between her teeth to nibble on before soothing it with the warmth of her mouth.

Pulling her tighter against him is an instant reflex before he mumbles something unintelligibly.

"What was that?" she asks, leaning away to eye him.

The way he's looking at Olivia is not an expression he's ever directed at her before the night of the Christmas party. And he's not allowed her to witness it since. His breathing has picked up, his eyes have darkened and they're so intense he nearly looks angry.

"I said you win," he growls. "I was looking."

"Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She asks, pun completely intended.

The smile that graces her face is not unlike that wildly popular feline in Alice in Wonderland. Victory is sweet and so was the journey. She almost gave into her baser instincts to simply kiss him but it wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying if she had been the one to initiate it.

Though it wasn't exactly distressing for Olivia to be draped all over him to prove a point, Elliot has always been a sore loser.

"You done torturing me?" He asks.

"Torturing you?"

"This isn't exactly partner-like behavior Olivia," he points out after releasing her. "So what were you thinking with that little game just now?"

"Clearly I wasn't," she says, picking up a beer and walking into the living room.

"That's crap and you know it," he tells her, following behind. "A week ago you're telling me workplace romances rarely work out and tonight you're all over me."

Olivia tips her beer up, taking a long slow sip as she looks out the window. Even his view of the city is better than hers.

"I caught you checkin' me out and thought I'd have a little fun," she tries. "End of story."

And much like she didn't buy his denial that he was eying her ass, Elliot's not buying her explanation of the resulting game.

"Bullshit. You've caught me checkin' you out before so why not just tell the truth," he demands, moving to stand closer. "I think I deserve that much."

She bites her bottom lip, takes another drink and turns to face him. The playfulness they had between them just seconds ago is now gone.

"I've been thinking about what you said," she confesses. "About…how good we are as partners, how that might translate into a _personal_ relationship."

"And how I might just be the one that could make you happy," Elliot concludes. "Yeah Liv I remember," he adds. "But I also recall getting a rejection for my troubles."

"I was worried we wouldn't be able to keep it out of work," she admits. "But all this week you've been treating me like you didn't say any of those things, didn't kiss me and-

"And what Liv?"

He's not going to make it easy.

"I realized that it might be possible…that maybe I should've given it more thought," she tells him. "If we try-

" _You're_ asking _me_ out now?"

Hearing his tone, how annoyed he sounds, Olivia decides to make an exit. She sits her beer on his coffee table and heads for the door. But Elliot's faster and he grabs her hand, turning her to face him again.

"I'm sorry," he begins. "It's just…I'm surprised is all."

"No more surprised than I was when you suggested that we started seeing one another off the clock in the first place," she returns.

Suddenly they realize that he's still holding her hand. Elliot leads her back to the sofa and they sit, preparing to revisit last week's conversation.

"Okay," he tells her. "I get it. I sprung that idea on you after all this time and didn't give you the courtesy of thinking it over before wanting an answer on the spot."

"Pretty much," she agrees. "Yeah."

"But I'm assuming you _have_ …been thinking about it," he continues and she immediately nods. "And now you realize that maybe it's not such a horrible idea?"

Olivia takes a breath and reaches for her beer again.

"I never thought it was a horrible idea," she corrects. "I was just so quick to think about what'd happen if things went wrong that I didn't consider-

"What would happen if they went right?" He finishes.

"Yes," she tells him, sipping her Bud Light. "But I don't wanna let those fears stop me from taking a chance on-

"Having something good?"

"Do you remember me telling you about those annoying habits we both have?" Olivia asks, as he nods. "Well one of yours is finishing my sentences."

He laughs then grins, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"I'll stop," he promises.

"So my suggestion is that we try _one_ date," she offers. "Spend a night trying to pretend that we don't already know everything there is to know about each other."

Elliot looks at her as if she's speaking a different language.

"We don't."

Olivia wholeheartedly disagrees.

"You know not only why I joined SVU in the first place but why I can't seem to leave," she begins. "How I take my coffee, what my morning face looks like, how much I love kids, what music I enjoy," she lists. "All the important stuff."

But mostly impersonal in Elliot's opinion.

"Yeah but, those are things anyone could've learned as your partner," he says. "I wanna know your favorite flowers, whether you prefer showers or bubble baths, if Serena let you play in mud puddles when it rained," he adds, garnering a smile from her. "Whether or not you kiss on the first date."

"Pink roses, hot showers, only after I put on my rain gear and not usually," she answers in sequence. "But then again, I already know how _you_ kiss," Olivia quips, yet hopes she isn't blushing.

"Yeah but _you_ haven't kissed _me_ ," Elliot clarifies, eying her lips.

And no matter how much she wants to, she won't be showing him tonight either.

"Well you'll just have to wait," she tells him. "We're not catching this weekend so what about tomorrow night?"

The sooner the better she thinks. The daydreams that have been in her head since he put his mouth on hers have been driving her to distraction.

"Wow," he says, getting up from the sofa. "I don't know Liv, that's kinda short notice," he continues dramatically. "I mean, what am I gonna wear?"

Olivia rolls her eyes, shakes her head and smiles.

"And my nails aren't done," he adds, pretending to scrutinize his cuticles. "I wonder if Jean-Paul can fit me in for a haircut and a facial," he goes on.

She's laughing full on now.

"I am _such_ a mess," he concludes as she lobs a throw pillow at him.

"You sure you don't wanna date Fin or Munch instead?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah," he says, joining her on the sofa again. "I only bat for one team and right now, you're the captain."

"Good to know," Olivia tells him. "Now that that's settled, maybe we could actually get some work done."

"Hey, you started it," he contends.

"Too tired to argue," she says, opening her work satchel.

Several hours, several beers and a couple boxes of lo mien later, she's still sitting on his sofa. They've gone over Elliot's notes, the Nicholson case as a whole and made sure their witness and victim statements sync up. As Olivia's packing everything to leave, she yawns and rubs her eyes.

"You look like Eli when he's fighting sleep," he notices.

"I'm not fighting it," she disagrees. "But since I still have to drive home, I'm not exactly in a position to give in."

"Why don't you stay here?" He suggests.

Olivia angles her head, smiling at him.

"You've ogled my body, gotten me all liquored up," she exaggerates. "Now you're tryin' to get me in bed too? I gotta say I'm disappointed in you Elliot," she goes on. "Having daughters, I thought you'd treat women better."

"Ha, ha," he says. "I'll take the guest bedroom which is that way," he continues, confirming her assumption as he points to the room on the other side of the sliding wall. "You can take my bed upstairs."

"I can take the guest bedroom El," she offers. "I _am_ the guest."

"I don't think you'd appreciate a twin bed or the Transformers theme on Eli's side," he tells her. "I'll be fine."

"I'm too tired to care El," she confesses. "Really."

Elliot takes both her hands in his, pulling her up from the couch.

"You'll be more comfortable in _my_ bed," he reasons. "And since you _are_ the guest, you shouldn't argue."

After raising a hand to caress the lobe of her ear, he gives her a tired grin. Olivia doesn't know how such a simple gesture is working on her but she decides not to offer any further objection.

"Okay."

"There are fresh towels in the bathroom and a new toothbrush under the sink."

Elliot lets go of her hand and begins to clear their empty bottles from the coffee table.

"You have _guests_ over so often that there's an extra toothbrush?" Olivia asks, trying to make it sound like casual conversation.

Again, she's surprised to be hoping that it's not because he's rekindled his dating life.

"No Liv," he answers. "I have _children_ over that are constantly forgetting to bring the essentials," he clarifies with a wink. "I'm gonna go find you something to sleep in."

Olivia thinks how tired she must be for his charm to be working on her as she grins sheepishly, starting to busy herself by cleaning up the takeout. In bending to gather the cartons, she eyes his form as he makes his way up the stairs.

"Stop lookin' at my ass," he throws out on his ascent.

Yep, tired. She doesn't even bother trying to deny it, just carries the rest of the Chinese food to the refrigerator shaking her head at the fact that she was so quickly busted.

Twenty minutes later the lights are out in the loft and Olivia's in his large bed. It's surprisingly soft to belong to a man. She is delightfully warm and surrounded by the lingering but welcomed scent of her partner.

After figuring out Elliot doesn't own one single pair of pajamas because he likes to sleep in only his underwear, they'd settled on a well-worn dress shirt that barely comes to her knees.

' _No wonder they have five kids,'_ she'd thought _. 'The man goes to bed nearly naked every night.'_

Olivia tries to let go of that final thought before she drifts off. The last thing she needs is that particular mental picture invading her dreams. She already has enough on her mind trying to forget that she has in fact, asked her partner out on actual date.

END A/N: Well I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment. Please feel free to comment in a review!


	3. The Date

A/N: I truly appreciate all the reviews and the positive feedback from this story. I'd love more of course. I never beta my work so if you see anything that could use some polishing, please let me know.

She can't believe her bedroom is such a mess. There are clothes everywhere and she's still roving through her closet like a mad woman. What Olivia is having trouble fathoming is that she's doing all this because she's going out with _Elliot_.

The morning was uneventful. He'd woken her up with the wonderful aroma of coffee and the equally intoxicating scent of buttermilk pancakes. And though she's sworn off carbs, she found herself hopelessly indulging.

Who knew the man could turn out a good flapjack?

Olivia started getting anxious about an hour ago. Initially everything she was going to wear from her earrings to her shoes was picked out and ready. Then she started second guessing things.

It began simply enough, swapping out her heels for another pair. Then she didn't think they worked with the dress so she chose another. Next thing she knew, it looked like her closet threw up all over her duvet.

She's standing in her bathrobe after having showered and Elliot will be knocking on her door in about ten minutes.

"Screw it," she says to herself, beginning to dress in the outfit she chose in the first place.

Olivia hasn't been this nervous about a date since junior prom with Frank Modesto. Usually she's confident, excited and happy to get out on the town because she works so much. Now she's edgy and nearly nauseous with anxiety. Her palms are sweaty and her stomach is doing flips.

"It's just Elliot," she asserts to the four walls of her apartment. "You've known him forever so just calm the hell down already."

She dabs on some perfume, pulls on her heels and goes to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, something to calm her nerves.

Meanwhile Elliot's in her parking garage, looking for a spot. He's changed his tie at least three times and that was _after_ he'd finally found what suit he was going to wear. He's a bundle of nerves and doesn't know why.

"It's just Liv," he repeats to himself yet again.

But the butterflies still haven't gone away. He hasn't been so simultaneously terrified and excited since he left for his first tour in the marines. It's not good that he's likening his date with her to war but it's the truth.

"Breathe," he says, walking down her hallway.

The tie ended up on Elliot's back seat after having yanked it off in frustration. He decided to keep things simple donning a black suit, pale blue dress shirt and black belt with matching shoes.

He takes a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the cold steel, hoping the flowers aren't too much. Olivia did say they were her favorites.

"Hey," she says, opening the door. "Wow El, these are beautiful," she comments, taking the pink roses and allowing him to come in.

Elliot watches as she enters the kitchen. She gets a vase from a cabinet, running some water inside before returning to the living room.

When she comes back to place it on the coffee table, he feels like the wolf in those old cartoons whose eyes bulge out, heart visibly beating loudly from his chest before whistling a cat call.

She's breathtaking.

He knows she pretty much always has been but he's never really been free to look before tonight. Elliot's had to watch her get ready to go out with other men, dress up as a prostitute or get sexy for some piece of scum they were trying to catch.

It was never for _him_.

Olivia's dress is a navy blue, strapless number that cinches beneath her breasts with a contrasting tan color and flares out, stopping just at her knees. And God help him, it sways when she walks.

Her hair is pinned back on one side, exposing her neck and drawing attention to the gold dangling earrings she's chosen. Matching gold bangles adorn her left wrist, a nice watch flatters her right and the diamond forever ring she always wears is on her middle finger.

"You look beautiful," he comments, once she's facing him again.

She smiles almost shyly and thanks him.

"You look pretty good yourself," she tells him. "And thank you for the flowers," she adds.

Olivia knows she told him just yesterday that they were her favorites but she's still glad he thought of her.

"Shall we go?" Elliot asks.

She nods, grabs her gold clutch purse and he opens the door for her as they venture out.

Saturday night reservations aren't as hard to come by as Friday nights' on one day's notice but it wasn't easy securing one. La Bovinetti Ristorante is a very popular Italian spot in SoHo and he had to damn near beg in order to get them in.

Elliot has had a lot of first dates in the many months since his divorce. He's even had some seconds and thirds. But he's tired of going through the motions with other women when he sees everything he wants in Olivia.

He doesn't know if things will work out and given their history he's not expecting them to fall in love after just one date. What he does know is that next to his kids, he likes spending time with her more than anyone else in the world and that has to mean something.

"Good evening," says the host, when they arrive. "What name please?"

"Stabler," answers Elliot.

The salt and pepper haired, suit clad man, looks down over the glasses resting on the tip of his nose and finds what he's looking for.

"Right this way," he tells them.

They follow him out to a carpeted area where twelve tables sit, decorated in white linens with burgundy napkins. Hovering above them are strands of clear lights. There are leveled green hedges enclosing the area, and several small, neatly pruned trees in each corner.

Elliot's very fortunate that they got the last available table because the night's perfect for being out and about. Whether they have global warming or Mother Nature to thank he doesn't know, but he appreciates the uncharacteristic 65o mid-April temperature.

He pulls Olivia's chair out for her before taking his own seat.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly," informs the host before making his exit.

All the tables are only large enough for two people. A single candle lit in the middle of each lends to an intimate, romantic atmosphere.

"Some rules for tonight…

"Rules?" Olivia asks, smiling with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," he responds. "No shop talk."

"Fair enough."

"So," Olivia begins, looking around before resting her eyes on his again. "This is nice, have you been here before?"

"Nah," he tells her. "But I've heard good things and I know you love Italian."

It's her favorite.

"I heard they have great chicken and spinach cannelloni," she says. "I've been meaning to try this place but never found the time."

Between her drama with Alexander and dealing with the subsequent two week suspension, she hasn't really had the desire to venture out.

"Then you should try it," he suggests as their waiter arrives.

"Hi I'm Adam," says the young man. "Can I start you off with a drink?"

"Liv?"

"Hmm," she says looking over the wine menu. "I'll try a glass of Nicholas Sauvignon Blanc," she responds, pronouncing it perfectly.

"And you sir?"

"I've never tried that before," says Elliot. "Is it good?" he asks, Olivia.

"According to the menu it's crisp with a tropical fruit taste," she answers. "Sounds delicious but I've never had it either."

"Then we'll try it together," he tells her, giving her a smile.

"Okay two white Nicks," says Adam. "Are you ready to order your entrées as well or would you like more time?"

"I'm ready," she answers. "I'll have the chicken and spinach cannelloni with the mixed green side salad," Olivia tells him.

"And for you sir?" he asks, writing on a small white note pad.

Elliot peruses the menu for a couple more seconds before answering.

"I'll have the spiedini di pollo," he answers in a perfect Italian accent.

"I'll put your orders in right away and return with your wine," he tells them as he takes their menus and heads back into the restaurant.

"You takin' a language course I don't know about?" Olivia asks. "Your pronunciation was great."

"Thanks," he says. "Your French could use some work though," he adds, garnering a playful kick beneath the table. "Kidding," he tells her. "I'm just kidding. Your mother was French so of course you sound perfect and no, no language courses."

"Thank you," she says. "So tell me what I don't know about the man, the myth, the legend Elliot Stabler," she chides with a grin.

"The male ego is a fragile thing Olivia," he advises. "Don't mess with my illusions of grandeur."

"Aw come on El, what happened to that tough exterior I've come to know and tolerate?"

"You wore it down with years of verbal abuse," he responds, making her laugh again. "But I'll tell you anyway."

"I'm honored," she says. "You can start with the carrot thing and work your way into puberty," she adds, returning the favor of making him chuckle.

Adam returns with their bottle and pours each of them a glass before leaving them again.

"Well I started off kind of shy at that age," he begins. "I barely spoke so my second grade teacher Mrs. Kinder, in all her wisdom, thought it'd bring me out of my shell and get me to socialize more with the other kids."

"Did it work?" Olivia asks, taking a sip of the wine.

She gives him a thumb's up, telling him how good it is.

"Yes and no," he answers after taking a sip and agreeing. "You see, the play was the Farmer in the Dell," he continues. "Jake McFerron got to be the farmer, the other boys were animals and the girls played the veggies," he explains. "So I got picked on for being the only guy in a carrot suit."

"Oh El, that must've been horrible."

"Yeah it sucked… _at first_."

"At first?"

"This kid Frank Menotti was the ringleader of the kids that were giving me grief. And that was fine until he started picking on the kid playing the tomato," he adds.

"And who was the tomato?" Olivia asks, giving him a knowing smile.

"Holly Norris."

"And was Holly a cute tomato?"

"Oh yeah she was," he responds quickly. "I got my ass kicked standing up for her but when it was over she gave me my first kiss."

"And a hero was born," she teases. "That's sweet El."

"Thanks. Now tell me an embarrassing Olivia Benson story."

Olivia looks up and off to her right like she's pondering his request.

"Humph," she says, after a couple of seconds. "Sorry, I got nothin'."

"What?"

"Nope," she repeats, shaking her head. "I thought about it and uh…I can't think of a damn thing."

Elliot eyes her like she's told him she has a fairy godmother that helped her get dressed before he showed up.

"Spill woman."

"Alright, alright," she tells him, holding both palms up in surrender. "Does it have to be a first kiss story 'cuz I gotta say, mine wasn't all that embarrassing nor nearly as cute as yours."

"No," he answers, taking another sip of wine. "Any humiliating story will do," he adds with a mischievous grin.

"Okay," Olivia gives in, exhaling like she's about to reveal the secrets of the universe. "I had braces until I was fifteen."

"And…

"Teenage girls are mean, evil people Elliot," she reminds him. "You _know_ that."

"So…

She rolls her eyes, knowing he's not going to go for that as being the end of the story. He taught _her_ how to be a detective after all.

Elliot knows there's more.

"Alright. So, I was kind of antisocial anyway because of my mom," she continues. "I didn't play any team sports or join any clubs because I knew she'd show up hammered and I'd have to lie or try to explain."

"I'm sorry," he offers.

"No, don't do that," she urges. "Don't apologize, that's not even the embarrassing part."

"You don't have to tell me Liv…

"El, come on," she says. "Just listen, okay?"

"Okay."

"As I was saying," she begins again. "I still had braces and tried to fly beneath the radar as often as possible. But I had this friend, Patricia Dubinsky," she goes on. "She was my best friend actually and that girl could sell ice to an Eskimo so she was always talking me into stuff."

"Was she now?" Elliot asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"Get your mind out the gutter Stabler," she orders, shaking her head and smiling before continuing. "So, she talked me into going to the party of Kevin Rainey, stereotypical head jock. It was a Saturday night and my mom wouldn't be home so I knew I could stay out as late as I wanted."

As Elliot leans in closer to listen, giving Olivia his complete and undivided attention. It makes her smile again because she's just now realizing how often he does it.

"So I go to the party and people are complainin' about how bored we all are, when someone suggests the lovely game of _'spin the bottle'_ ," she continues. "And of course Patty convinces me to play."

"Now we're talking."

"You're terrible," she quips. "Anyway, the bottle points to me and Mark Lightfoot," she says. "Now Mark was half Italian, half Native American, tall, perpetually tanned and the only freshman on the junior-varsity baseball team."

"So what happened between you and this Greek god?"

"I'm getting to it," she tells him. "So it points to me and Mark. We're both kind of hesitant when we get up but hey, we agreed to play the game."

"Rules are rules Liv," he manages before catching an annoyed look for yet another interruption. "Sorry."

"I get in there first and he follows like ten seconds later," she explains. "It was one of those red light basement parties so not only is it dark in the room, it's pitch black inside the closet," she explains. "When the door closes he reaches for me and we start kissing."

"Where's the humiliation?" he asks. "You made out with a handsome jock."

"I'm getting to that," she repeats. "So we hear the timer go off and stop," Olivia continues. "Several things happen after that and none of them were good."

Elliot starts laughing before she can reveal what they were.

"I haven't even told you what happened yet," she says, joining in. "The least you can do is wait."

"I'm sorry," he says, continuing to snicker. "Go ahead."

"The closet door is flung open, the basement is now brighter than Melinda's autopsy room and Kevin's dad, having come home early, has everyone up against the wall like it's a lineup."

Elliot doesn't even bother trying to contain his laughter any more.

"And-

"There's more?" he asks when he gets enough breath.

"Yeah," she tells him. "Mark's not even the guy I was kissing," she reveals. "It was his buddy Jeff," she adds. "Some skinny, pimply faced kid who'd had a crush on me since the third grade."

When she finishes, they're both laughing so hard, people at other tables are starting to give them side glances.

"Wow Liv," he says, wiping tears from his eyes. "That was…you really delivered on the embarrassing part."

"You're welcome I think," she explains. "After lining us up, Kevin's dad smelled all of our breaths for alcohol, shined a light in our eyes to check our pupils to see if we were high, then kicked us out."

"That's great," Elliot comments. "Please feel free to share any more equally embarrassing tales from your adolescence."

"Not gonna happen Stabler."

The waiter arrives at their table and places their entrees in front of them. After checking to make sure everything is to their satisfaction, Adam leaves them to enjoy their food.

They chat back and forth during the meal, commenting on how it tastes and making light conversation. A while later after they've finished, Adam returns to take away their plates.

"Would either of you care for dessert?" He asks.

"I'm good thanks," says Olivia. "I couldn't eat another bite."

"Me either," Elliot agrees. "I'll take the check please."

The waiter nods and leaves them alone again.

"The food here's pretty good," comments Olivia. "I wouldn't mind coming back."

"The atmosphere's not so bad either," Elliot says, giving her a smile. "So I was thinking it's still early…

"And…

"I was wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me in the park," he asks her.

Olivia used to enjoy Central Park when she first became a cop. She's exercised there, had a few picnics on the Great Lawn and has enjoyed Shakespeare in the Park a time or two.

But after getting into SVU, more often than not she's there because of a sexual assault victim or a rape/homicide. With years of that locale as a crime scene, it's lost its appeal.

Perhaps that'll change tonight.

"I'd like that," responds, as he signs for their meal.

Arriving a short time later, Elliot noses his car into a space across from the 72nd street entrance. They are strolling leisurely along when he chances slipping his warm palm into hers.

As much as they'd seen on the job and as often as the two have walked side by side, Olivia can admit there were more than enough times when she simply wanted to reach for his hand.

"Is this okay?" He asks.

"Definitely," she answers, offering him a smile.

They continue to walk on the unseasonably warm, inviting night enjoying a slight breeze as they run into others taking advantage of the tranquil surroundings. About ten minutes into their stroll, Olivia and Elliot find themselves at Bethesda Terrace.

The beautiful fountain at the end of the courtyard has a winged statue known as the "Angel of the Park".

"I've always loved this section because of her," comments Olivia. "Even though my mom didn't have us subscribe to any specific religion, I've always been drawn to the angel," she reveals. "She just looks so…

"Welcoming?"

"Yeah, I guess," Olivia tells him. "I can't really describe it. She just gives me a sort of…peace."

"That's good," he responds, slightly squeezing her hand. "Maybe that was the intention behind it."

"I'll bet she's seen a lot," says Olivia, leading him to a nearby bench.

"Yeah, even more than we have."

Elliot lets go of her hand to put his arm behind her on the seat as they take a rest from walking.

The water of the fountain flickers, as the glow of the full moon reflects off the surface of the pool and each drop. The dark sky is clear enough to make out constellations and Elliot takes the time to point out all that he remembers from the days he longed to travel among the stars.

"Do you ever regret not pursuing your dream to get into the space program?" She asks.

"Nah," he tells her. "After finding out Kathy was pregnant I knew I had to get my head out of the clouds and get a steady paycheck."

"It's just…your face lights up when you talk about it almost as much as it does when you're telling me about Eli's latest stunts," she points out. "It's a shame you didn't get your wish."

"Next to becoming a dad, I found something I was just as passionate about when I joined SVU," he offers. "Getting justice for victims gives me a purpose being in NASA would never be able to," he continues. "Sure it would've been great exploring outer space in zero gravity but…," he pauses to eye her.

"But what?" She asks, nearly whispering with their faces a breath apart.

" _We_ never would've met."

She doesn't know what she was thinking telling him she doesn't kiss on the first date. Right this second, there's nothing she'd rather do more. He's basically just told her he'd choose their time together over being in the _space_ program.

It's a complete turn on.

Elliot moves his hand to the back of her neck, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of her nape.

"What's _your_ policy on kissing on the first date?" She asks him, a playful grin gracing her face.

He doesn't bother answering. Elliot simply leans in and touches his mouth to hers, applying the slightest pressure before pulling back. He doesn't want to overstep by doing more.

"I'm glad we're not catching this weekend," she says, leaning her head against his shoulder afterwards. "I could sit here like this all night," she adds with a contented sigh.

"Me too."

A few minutes of quiet passes with neither of them speaking. They people watch and enjoy each other's company before Elliot breaks the silence.

"Some people think war is constant gunfire and missiles flying overhead," he begins in a somber voice. "But when I was in Desert Storm, there were times it was so quiet you could hear the guy next to you breathing."

Olivia knows it's one of those moments where words aren't necessary. While he has spoken about the marines in generalities, this is the first time he's talked about serving during a time of war.

"I don't know if it's because it's the desert or it being just a wide open space, but the sky seemed bigger and the stars seemed closer," he describes. "I always thought it was a contradiction that something so beautiful and so horrific could be going on in the same place at the same time."

She unclasps her hands in her lap to place one of them on his thigh, just to let Elliot know she's there with him. He's silent again after that but Olivia's glad he shared that much.

Physical intimacy won't be a problem. It's separating what they develop off the clock with one another versus who they have to be at work that may be an issue. And the natural pull they have towards one another, has gotten just that much stronger tonight.

"I think it's time I got you home," Elliot says, nearly a half hour later.

He pulls his arm from around her to get up and notices she hasn't moved.

"Not ready to go yet?" He asks, smiling.

"The sooner I leave, the sooner I get home and the sooner Monday gets here," she responds, nearly whining. "It's only a day away."

Elliot shakes his head before grabbing both hands to pull her to her feet.

"As much I'd love to sit here all night with you…

"Okay, okay," she tells him.

They hold hands walking out of the park and a short time later he has Olivia back at her front door.

"Thank you for dinner El," she tells him. "I had fun tonight."

"You're welcome, so did I."

He steps forward to give her a respectful peck on the cheek, having remembered what Olivia said about not usually kissing on the first date.

But she has other plans.

She takes his face in her palms before bringing her lips to his as Elliot slides his arms around her waist, pulling her fully against him.

She means to keep it short and simple but the night couldn't have been more perfect for them. They laughed to the point of tears, the food was delicious, the conversation in the park was intimate and the nervousness they both had at the beginning of the evening faded away before their dinner arrived.

And it's not like they're strangers.

"I uh…," Elliot tries, after they stop to breathe. "I should let you go."

"Yeah," she manages with her back against the door.

"But you should know I don't really want to," he adds, hesitantly retreating as she puts her keys in the lock.

"I can tell," Olivia says, smirking.

"We should do this again," Elliot says.

"Soon," she agrees, getting the door open.

"I'm gonna go now before I embarrass myself," he says. "I'll call you."

He manages an innocent kiss to her cheek before turning and heading towards the elevator.

Elliot is nearly skipping by the time he makes it down to his car. He turns his satellite radio to a feed titled _Love_ , listening to it all the way home as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. Things couldn't have gone better between them and he finds himself impatient to see her again.

But he'll have to settle for the sound of her voice.

Inside her apartment, Olivia's already out of her dress and in a large sleep shirt. She sits down with her laptop and takes thirty minutes to read through emails and shoot a few responses. Afterwards she brushes her teeth and is climbing beneath the covers when her cell begins to ring on her nightstand.

"Wow," she answers. "When you say you'll call…

"I know," he laughs. "I just…I really had a good time tonight."

"Me too," she admits. "But El…do you really think we can keep it out of work?"

"I don't know Liv," he answers with a sigh. "But if tonight is any indication of what we can have outside _off_ the clock, then I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."

Olivia agrees, making the decision to enjoy her time with him while she can, whenever she can and not worry about all the ways it could go wrong because of the job.

"I am."

"So what are you doin' tomorrow?"

End A/N: They had a great start, an awesome first date. But will it last?


	4. Like I'm Gonna Lose U

**A/N: Happy New Year one and all! I hope you had a joyous, festive and safe NYE. I spent mine in the hospital but don't worry, it's what I get paid to do…lol. Now I say what better way to ring in the New Year than with a little E/O. This is the final chapter of this here little fic. Whether you've enjoyed the read or not, please leave me a little something to let me know why or why not as the case may be. Rated MA so heed the warning.**

… _three months later._

"You wouldn't be so quick to listen to her story if it were the other way around," Olivia points out, standing from her desk. "If it were a _male_ track coach and his _female_ runner!"

The two of them are starting to garner attention from their coworkers as they have it out in the middle of the bullpen.

"Of course I would," Elliot contends, getting up so forcefully his chair rolls across the room. "It's not exactly my first day Olivia," he adds. "Don't talk to me like I haven't done this job _just_ as long as you have!"

"Then maybe it's just Leslie Gannon that's clouded your judgment," she continues. "Why don't you admit that she's not the same person you knew when you were kids!"

"She has an alibi!"

"And it's bullshit!"

"You know the statistics on female sexual predators," Elliot points out. "And this is supposed to have been going on for the last ten years?" He asks, rhetorically. "Where are the other victims?"

"Clearly _you_ don't remember the stats on female predators," she asserts. "Because female on male rape is rarely even reported let alone prosecuted," she reminds him. "That's why she doesn't have a criminal history!"

Having been disturbed by their yelling, Cragen abruptly steps out of his office.

"Enough!" He barks. "Olivia, Elliot my office, now!"

They give each other the evil eye over their desks before reluctantly following the captain into his office. Once inside Elliot stands with his arms crossed over his chest while Olivia digs her fists into her pockets.

"What the hell is the matter with you two?" He asks.

"He won't—

"She doesn't—

"Save it," interrupts their boss. "Now Elliot, I let you stay on this case because you told me you hadn't seen or heard from Leslie Gannon in over thirty-five years," he reminds him. "But if you can't be objective-

"I can Cap," he asserts. "It's not a problem."

Cragen looks to Olivia for the slightest bit of dissonance. But just as she has hundreds of times before, she doesn't sell out her partner.

"I don't know what the two of you were arguing about _this_ time and frankly I don't give a damn," he contends. "You either work out whatever this is by yourselves or I will."

"Yes captain," they say simultaneously.

"Because if you don't," he continues, pausing to let his words sink in. "Trust me when I say, you will _not_ like the outcome," he threatens. "Now I want the both of you to take a break," he calmly adds. "Separately."

The detectives nod without saying a word. Cragen looks at them, ruminating that perhaps there's more to their argument than what is on the surface.

In his experience, there always is with these two.

"Is there anything either of you would like to share?" He asks. "Anything I should know?"

For the first time since being called into his office, Elliot and Olivia actually meet one another's eyes.

"No cap," he says.

"No sir," she agrees.

The captain looks at them with skepticism but there's nothing he can really do unless they botch a case or someone comes to him with an accusation of impropriety on their part.

"Fine," says their boss. "Then be back here in a half hour ready to either try and close the Duvall case or at least make some serious headway," he adds. "Am I clear?"

"Yes captain," they say together.

"Dismissed."

Olivia is the first out of Cragen's office. She unlocks her desk drawer, grabs her purse and makes a beeline for the elevator.

Elliot strides down the corridor and takes the steps to the roof.

"What do you think that was _really_ about?" Munch asks.

"Don't know, don't wanna know," answers Fin. "And maybe you should try something new for a change and mind ya business…just this once."

"Now what would be the fun in that partner?" Munch asks.

Fin simply shakes his head and continues writing.

"I can't even remember the last time the two of them raised their voices at each other," continues the elder detective. "Let alone had an actual screaming match."

"Leave it alone man."

"In fact I'd say they've been more civil than they've ever been for several months now," comments Munch. "You don't think-

"No," interrupts Fin. "I don't think about anyone's personal business besides mine."

Munch narrows his eyes at his partner over his desk.

"You know something don't you?"

"Nope," Fin answers, not even bothering to look up or stop writing. "Like I said, I don't wanna know," he goes on. "What people do outside this job ain't got shit to do with me."

"That may very well be my friend," Munch goes on. "But mark my words, there is something going on with those two and it has nothing to do with the Duvall case," he contends.

"You've been sayin' that for years," his partner points out. "And ain't a damn thing happened yet."

"That we know of."

Fin looks up, shakes his head and goes back to work.

Having not been able to rope his partner into office gossip, Munch decides to actually be productive, picking up a file out of his inbox to start on.

Elliot and Olivia return within ten or so minutes of one another. They sit at their desks making phone calls to follow up on leads and confirm witness statements.

A short while later, something on the monitor catches Tuttuola's eye.

"Shit's hittin' the fan for ya girl Stabler," comments Fin as he calls up the latest news story on the monitor.

" _Forty-six year old Leslie Gannon has been suspended from Manhattan Prep stemming from allegations of an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student," says the reporter._

"She's not _my_ girl," Elliot contends as everyone focuses their attention on the sight of his childhood friend trying to dodge the cameras.

" _The news comes just three days after the unnamed young man reported it to his parents," the redhead continues. "More on this in the 6 o'clock hour."_

Every station in the area has reported on what they've learned about Olivia and Elliot's case before dinner. And by the end of the week, three more victims come forward.

Elliot takes their statements as they reluctantly tell him how the woman they'd come to know as _"Coach Feel Good",_ seduced them into sexual relationships and in exchange gave them opportunities to be scouted by top colleges and universities.

"At first you think wow, I must be lucky that an older woman is tryin' to get in my pants," says Roger Feldman, a twenty-year old from Rutgers. "You don't even realize how f-cked up it is 'til later."

For as long as he's been in SVU, he didn't think it was possible that he could have biases when it comes to doing his job and what victims he believes.

"It was almost like a rite of passage," describes Adrian Jackson, a nineteen year-old that took the train in from Howard University. "If you were on the track team and you didn't get your first piece from Coach F- I mean, Coach Gannon," he corrects. "Then something was wrong with _you_."

With each note he makes and every word he transcribes for the record, Elliot thinks about how his son could've easily been one of these young men. He realizes after he'd gotten a certain age that he'd stopped worrying about Richard becoming a victim.

He'd only ever made sure to tell his _daughters_ about how men operate, what they say to get women into bed or to let him know if something happens that they aren't entirely comfortable with.

How wrong he's been.

The nail in Leslie Gannon's coffin is the confirmation that the father of her four year-old son is a former student. Jackson Stanton was only fifteen at the time of conception and therefore there's no refuting the additional statutory rape charge.

Elliot has to see her. He needs answers.

The short statured blonde haired woman, shuffles into the Riker's visiting room, wearing prison orange, devoid of makeup and lacking the confidence she displayed for the cameras just four days ago. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or angry that he didn't get to slap handcuffs on her himself.

"You played me," he starts once they're seated. "You really had me goin' Les."

The tears immediately start flowing from the other side of the metal table. His former childhood friend doesn't bother wiping them away.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I couldn't…I wanted to keep the lies I had in my head going," she explains. "And I needed to hold on to my son."

"You mean the son you had with a guy who was a teenager the first time you took him to bed?" He asks. "The lies that you were actually helping these boys? Boys Les! Kids!"

She doesn't even jump when he punctuates his words by pounding his fists on the table. At the corrections officer stepping forward, Elliot holds his hands up to stop her.

"Won't happen again," he assures her. "Sorry."

The officer steps back but keeps her eyes on the conversation.

"I was a kid once too," Leslie begins.

"Oh please," says Elliot, obviously appalled. "Don't try that," he adds. "Don't make excuses."

"I'm not," she asserts. "I wouldn't."

"Then _what_?"

Leslie wrings her hands, then looks down and away initiating long moments of silence between them.

"Remember our club house?" She asks suddenly, her face brightening. "We'd spend hours there pretending to be pirates or space aliens."

He finds a corner of his mouth turning up at the memory.

"You were such a tomboy," Elliot recalls. "And you never wanted to go home when we were supposed to."

She _never_ wanted to go home.

"No," she says quietly. "I didn't. Especially after my mom died."

They were only ten years old. Elliot hates what his warped mind, made that way by spending over two decades in law enforcement, supplies after that revelation.

"You guys moved away," he tells her. "I never saw you again."

Leslie nods, purposefully losing eye contact with him, instead studying the dingy, checkered linoleum floor.

"We were livin' with my uncle Eric and my older cousin Stevie after her hospital bills left us broke," she reminds him. "You always hated him because he picked on us."

"I remember," Elliot says. "Even then Stevie seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn't outgrow bein' an asshole."

His old friend manages a small laugh.

"He didn't," she confirms. "When he was twenty-two he was beaten to death with a baseball bat."

He can't say he's surprised to learn this.

"What happened?"

"Got caught in a motel room with a twelve year old girl," Leslie informs him. "Her father went looking for her one day after reading her diary," she adds. "Stevie had her convinced he was in love with her."

What a story.

"And I happily told the man where he could find him," Leslie concludes.

What a family.

"How long-

"From the time I was seven until I hit puberty," she answers without Elliot having to finish the question. "I just…I don't understand how I turned into someone I hated so much," she adds as the tears build again.

"Maybe while you're in here," he begins, looking around at the drab gray walls. "You'll figure that out."

"God knows I'll have the time," she says with a sigh. "When I come up for parole, Gregory will have graduated college," she surmises, wiping fresh tears away. "But I have earned every damn year they gave me and then some."

The instances in his long career that Elliot has felt sorry for both the victims and the perpetrator have been few and far between.

And this is certainly one of them.

Over Leslie's shoulder, the female officer signals to him that their time is up. When he stands, so does his childhood playmate.

"I'm glad you turned out to be one of the good ones," she tells him.

"Take care of yourself Les," he responds.

The woman nods that she'll try and heads towards the door where the C.O. is waiting.

"And El?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"Thanks for trying to give me the benefit of the doubt," she tells him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were wrong."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Me too."

When she walks into his place, all the lights are out. Though the curtains on the windows are all drawn closed, the sheer material lets just enough moonlight creep in to cast shadows into his living room.

His silhouette is apparent in the darkness, sitting on the sofa with his head tilted back against the cushions. If he hadn't chosen that moment to drink from the beer bottle dangling from his fingers, she would've thought him to be sleeping.

Elliot squints harshly when she pulls the string on a floor lamp.

"Hey," she says simply, walking over to join him on the sofa.

Staring blankly ahead, he doesn't even bother turning in her direction. He's barefoot and appropriately dressed for the July heat in khaki shorts and a white V-neck t-shirt. He smells freshly showered but it doesn't seem to have done anything to relax him.

"Hey."

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" Olivia asks. "Closure."

"Closure is like the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus Olivia," he tells her. "It's a f-cking myth," he goes on. "But yeah, I got answers."

"I'm sorry," she offers.

This gets his attention and abruptly he focuses on his partner.

"For what?" He asks. "You were right all along."

Olivia shrugs her shoulders.

"Sorry you got hurt in all this," she offers. "It doesn't give me any satisfaction to know I was right about her El," she offers. "Especially with the way it's affected you."

Elliot leans forward, puts the beer on the coffee table and reaches for her hand.

"I'm the one that should apologize," he begins. "I should've trusted your judgement, hell I should've trusted my own gut instincts."

"Why didn't you?"

"I just…I didn't wanna believe it," he answers. "She disclosed her molestation by an asshole cousin of hers that used to mess with us when we were kids," he continues.

"That doesn't-

"I know it doesn't excuse what she did to those boys," he finishes. "But I knew _something_ was wrong then and I didn't do a damn thing."

"Baby," Olivia begins, scooting closer. "You cannot blame yourself," she tells him. "That responsibility belongs solely on the perpetrator, you _know_ that."

"But I could've-

"Look at me," she interrupts, laying her hand against his cheek to encourage him. "You had enough going on in your own house," she reasons, eluding to his father's abuse and his mother's mental illness. "And you were just a child yourself."

Reluctantly Elliot nods in agreement.

"Had you known what was going on with Leslie, I'm sure you would've done all you could to help," Olivia asserts, giving a reassuring rub to his thigh.

"Thank you," he says. "And I _am_ …sorry."

"Okay."

He leans forward to capture her lips, intending to keep it simple but an emotional rollercoaster of a week makes him draw it out. As he slowly slides his tongue against hers, Olivia can taste the beer he's been drinking.

"So," Elliot says, finally allowing room for them both to breathe. "It seems we've survived our first major fight since we started dating," he points out.

"It would seem so," she agrees, caressing the nape of his neck with her fingers. "But sooner or later, if we're gonna continue seeing each other-

" _If_?" He asks. "Something you wanna tell me?"

Olivia drops her hand, rubbing her thighs before leaning forward to clasp her hands in front of her. She looks back over her shoulder at him and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"It's not what you think El," she says. "I'm not saying I wanna break up," she continues. "It's just…we can only keep up both a personal _and_ professional relationship for so long before someone notices."

Elliot scrubs a hand over his face as he sits back against the sofa.

"I think we've done a great job at hiding it," he reasons.

"Seriously?" Olivia asks, ditching her boots before getting up to go to the kitchen. "What about the time Munch overheard you calling me _'baby'_?"

"I think we covered pretty well," he says unconvincingly.

"We're lucky he believed we were rehearsing that undercover op," she calls out. "And with this last big fight, I think Cragen suspects that something more personal was attached to the usual insults."

After perusing the contents of his fridge Olivia decides on the green apple tea that she's acquired a taste for. She leans against the counter as he approaches.

"It's not good that we even have _usual_ insults," Elliot says, hopping up on the counter opposite her. "But I know what you mean."

"And it's not just having to stop myself from calling you pet names," she points out. "There are times when I wanna just reach for your hand or-

"Drag me into a file room and have your way with me?"

Olivia sits her drink aside and crosses over to him. She positions herself between his legs and rubs both hands up and down his strong thighs. Then she leans in so close their lips almost touch.

"No," she whispers against his mouth before leaning away.

"Tease."

"That's what you get for joking when I'm trying to be serious," returning to the counter for her green tea.

"Sorry," Elliot says. "But I know where you were headed," he adds, jumping down from the counter to approach her. "And I'm not ready to think logically where you're concerned," he goes on, sweeping an errant hair from her face.

Secretly, she loves when he does that.

"Me either," she admits.

"I love lookin' across our desks and seeing you Liv," he continues. "I couldn't imagine someone else complaining about my chicken scratch," he says, making her smile. "Or stealing fries from my plate at lunch."

"El…

"But I also love secretly playing with your fingers when we're standing in the back of a crowded elevator," he goes on. "The scent of your shampoo when you walk by, that deep throaty laugh of yours when you find something _really_ funny," Elliot continues, causing another grin to form on her lips.

"El we-

"I love that you can't resist my pancakes, the way you looked in my shirt," he says leaning towards her neck. "And I love this spot right here," he continues, planting an open mouth kiss close to her earlobe.

Olivia shudders in response.

"I don't wanna choose Liv," Elliot says, pulling back. "Not tonight."

Moved by such an impassioned plea, she kisses him deeply before conceding and telling him, "Okay."

She's fallen asleep with him on his couch after long nights of binge watching _The Walking_ _Dead_. They've woken up intertwined with each other after studying case files for hours while searching for leads. And both now have emergency keys to each other's apartments.

Yet between work and their crazy hours, their dates have been cut short, their meals interrupted and their movie nights postponed. They've shared furtive glances, brief make-out sessions and have tried to capitalize on stolen moments.

But they have yet to make love.

"Stay here," he tells her. "I'll be right back."

"Where-

"Just," Elliot interrupts, "Stay."

Olivia nods and she watches as he rushes off up the loft stairs to his bedroom. He moves about quickly and while she doesn't know what he's up to, she has the feeling that tonight will be unforgettable.

She returns what's left of her tea to the fridge and uses the time to freshen up in the guest bathroom while he does whatever it is he's doing. Once she's done, she notices music coming from overhead. And as she steps further into the living room, the song is unmistakable.

" _I found myself dreaming, in silver and gold, like a scene from a movie, that every broken heart knows…_

It's Meghan Trainor featuring John Legend, _Like I'm Gonna Lose You_. He's always been more of a classic rock kind of guy so Olivia's very surprised. They were on stakeout a couple of weeks ago when it came on the radio and she immediately fell in love with the song.

Apparently he took notice.

"Come on up," Elliot directs, looking down from the loft window.

She grins as she sheds her blazer, shield and weapon, placing them inside a desk drawer before climbing the stairs.

He wishes he'd had more time to prepare but it's truly been a hell of a week and he wasn't expecting her to come by after their fight. Still…he wants their first time to be special, memorable.

So, the inset shelf above his brown tufted headboard is lined with candles. He put clean white Egyptian cotton sheets on his king-sized platform bed. Appropriately sweet music is playing and a diffuser of her favorite lavender oil gives the room an enticing aroma.

Having watched her ascent, Elliot holds his hand out to her as she reaches the threshold of his bedroom. He says nothing as he also grasps her other hand, pulling her arms around his neck as he lowers his to her waist.

They begin a slow dance to the song, just as they had several months ago when he'd realized that her happiness was so indivisible from his own.

" _In the blink of an eye, just a whisper of smoke, you could lose everything, the truth is you never know…_

With the line of work they're in, the lyrics to the song mean so much more for to the two detectives.

So, as they listen to the words, Olivia holds him just a little tighter and Elliot pulls her just a little closer knowing that the next knife wielding maniac could be more determined or the next bullet could be fatal.

By the time the song is over, her eyes have the shimmer of tears. And he leans down to kiss away the one that's managed to escape before whispering, "I'm so in love with you."

Without waiting for a response he kisses her tenderly, sensuously and if he didn't have her so completely already, she'd definitely be his.

Olivia moves her arms from around his neck, lowers her hands to the hem of his t-shirt and begins to raise it before he strips it the rest of the way off himself. After tossing it aside, she explores the solidity of his torso, first with her hands then with her mouth.

Elliot threads his fingers through her hair, pulling Olivia's lips to his again. Their tongues do battle as his nimble digits descend to her blouse, unbuttoning it while she ditches her belt and steps out of her pants.

Everything is black satin and lace beneath.

"Damn."

Her only response is a smile before releasing the button and zipper on his shorts to join her work slacks on the floor. Then she backs up, turns and crawls across the bed to wait for him.

Wasting no time, he climbs over to her, meeting her mouth again before dragging his lips over to that sweet spot behind her ear.

Olivia sits up when she feels him lowering the straps of her bra. And after getting out of it she's quickly rewarded with the feel of his warm mouth on one of her breasts.

Elliot has been tempted and taunted by what little he's glimpsed of her cleavage for many years. To finally be able to see, to touch, to taste has more than satisfied all of his curiosities. And the moan she emits lets him know that teasing her with his teeth and applying the texture of his tongue is just as pleasurable for her.

Though it's never happened from that sole act, she feels an orgasm isn't far off if he continues the manipulation of her heated flesh. Olivia gets a short reprieve from the impending explosion as he moves away from her breasts and towards her abdomen.

To say that Elliot has fantasized millions of times about sliding her panties down those long tanned legs would be a gross and inaccurate understatement. He lost count long ago.

And when he looks up to meet her eyes, he realizes he isn't the only one.

She moistens her mouth, taking in her bottom lip before giving him a sexy smirk and widening her stance to accommodate him. No prompting is necessary. He kisses her torturously slow from the inside of her thigh until reaching what's about to become his favorite place on earth.

The anticipation is killing her as she waits for vivid daydreams and gray reality to finally and blissfully merge.

If her smell isn't intoxicating enough, being able to savor the most intimate parts of her is downright maddening. As she begins to squirm beneath him, he continues to coil and twist his tongue knowing he's driving her equally insane.

"El…ahh…just…please," she manages, fisting his bed sheets.

And just when he thinks Olivia can't take anymore, he deliberately draws that little bundle of nerve endings into his mouth like it's his favorite succulent fruit.

Unabashedly she bucks, arching her back from the mattress as electricity spreads throughout every cell from hair follicles to toenails, rendering her speechless. Elliot climbs up her body, planting that gifted mouth of his near her lobe.

"I've wanted to do that forever," he whispers.

A flash of lightening temporarily brightens the room and shortly after they hear a deluge of rain hitting the large windows not far from his bed. The sound has always been a turn on for Olivia, prompting her to eagerly find his lips again.

Recognizing that they're just getting started, she seizes the opportunity to flip their positions. He lifts up as she begins sliding the black boxer briefs down his muscular legs before kicking them off completely.

Having a naked Elliot Stabler beneath her is something she no longer has to feel guilty about wanting or _enjoying_.

"And if you hadn't figured it out already," she begins as he sits up. "I'm in love with you too El."

The new position puts them eye to eye and whether literally or figuratively, it's exactly where he likes for them to be. Her knees straddle his lap with an arm around his shoulders and his hands are around her waist when she guides him inside her for the first time.

Her heart is racing but her breaths slow as he pulls closer and therefore deeper.

"You okay?" He asks.

Olivia answers by kissing him passionately before beginning to move. She sets the pace, changes the sensation and creates depth with each roll of her hips. It's a powerful thing to be both emotionally and physical connected to the person you love most in the world. It overwhelms her to the point of tears. And after swiping them away, Elliot lays her down to pick up where she left off.

The intensity that he brings to his work is mirrored in his movements. He is an attentive lover, slowing his rhythm to match the pace of their kisses, then speeding up again to acquiesce to her pleas of, "faster El."

When his lips aren't attached to hers, Elliot is enamored with her breasts or leaving what is sure to be evidence of their lovemaking on the sensitive skin of her neck. The room is filled with their quickening breaths, their moans and the occasional sound of the outside world cheering them on with thunderous applause.

When he knows he's close, he reaches down to the same sensitive bundle he so adeptly teased with his tongue earlier and begins passionately rubbing.

In seconds Olivia is bucking again, this time letting out a scream. And after several more strokes his own climax follows. Though the heat of summer has descended upon the city, his SoHo loft stays perpetually drafty so he covers their spent bodies with his Egyptian cotton sheets.

She rests on her back, while Elliot lays at her side on his stomach, intertwining the fingers of his right hand with those of her left. They remain silent, listening to the continuing downpour as their breaths even out and the beat of their hearts return to normal.

"Just so you know," she begins after long minutes of quiet. "I don't usually cry during sex."

He gives her a small laugh, then slightly squeezes her hand.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about that Liv."

She turns on her side, bunching one of his pillows beneath her head.

"I don't?" She asks. "You wanna tell me why you're _not_ worried?"

He moves to mimic her position, then reaches beneath the covers to caress the swell of her hip.

"Because I get it," Elliot answers. "What I feel for you isn't comfortable Liv, it isn't…reasonable or or quiet," he goes on. "It wrecks me in the most pleasurable way imaginable," he adds. "And it's the most terrifying and overpowering thing I've ever felt."

"You make us sound like some type of natural disaster," she replies, rubbing the stubble of his chin with her thumb.

"We kinda are sometimes," he says, grinning.

"But you're right," Olivia agrees, dropping her palm to his chest. "I've never felt anything so… _strong_ El," she tells him. "You've always made me feel like it's okay to be who I am, like I'm enough," she adds. "There have been times when you've put me back together again with a simple glance or the sound of your voice over the phone."

She scoots closer, sliding her legs against his.

"And when you look at me with that fire in your eyes," she continues. "The rest of the world…it just falls away."

Elliot smiles as he threads his fingers through her hair, joins their lips together then pulls her up against him again.

When they come up for air, Olivia rests her forehead against his, eyes closed with a grin on her face.

"I guess I should admit it now," she whispers against his mouth.

"What's that?" He asks in a rasp.

She leans away to meet his eyes.

"That you were right," she answers. "That despite the fact that we argue and get on each other's nerves every now and again," she explains, garnering a smile from him. "You make me happier than I've been in a long time."

"You do the same for me," he returns. "And it's not just because you're in my bed naked at the moment," he adds, earning a playful punch to the ribs. "I'm just glad you changed your mind."

"Me too."

"I remember how you worried about not keeping it out of the squad or losing what we have if things didn't work-

"There's always that chance," Olivia interrupts.

"I know," he acknowledges. "But what made you wanna try?"

"I thought about everything you said," she answers. "How connected we are, how we're there for one another beyond what work calls for, but more than anything I was curious."

"Curious," Elliot repeats. "About what?"

"What it'd be like to finally and blissfully give in, to temptation."

"And?" He asks, grinning knowingly.

Olivia pushes him to lie on his back as she climbs over him, straddling his thighs with a mischievous smile on her face, hovering her lips over Elliot's.

"I'm thinking I wanna spend the rest of the weekend," she rasps. "With you telling me _'I_ _told you so'_ in every way imaginable."

And that's exactly what our two favorite detectives do.

The End.

 **Final A/N: Alrighty people. I hope you've enjoyed the read. Don't forget to review!**


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